“I’m gonna need more of that,” I said.
He grinned. “I’m gonna give you more, but first I need to taste you, so I’m gonna take it slow.”
“Or…” I kissed his chest, straddling his hips, and leaning over to kiss him. “I’m going to go for a ride before you do any of that.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded and lifted my hips slightly. “I’m willing to drop a whole quarter in the slot if you make it a rough one.”
He guided his cock inside of me and I lowered myself, impaling myself on him. I felt him shift and I planted my palms on his chest. “Donotmove.”
“I kinda have to move to give you your quarter’s worth.”
“Yes, but you were going to flip me onto my back and I’m liking this view right now.”
He chuckled. “Okay, baby, you take the reins for now, but you don’t have long, because I plan to fuck you until you can’t move, sound good?”
I dropped my head back with a sigh. “So, so good.”
For the next four hours, we did nothing but make love, stopping to eat on occasion. I’d never experienced anything like it before, and I planned to do it more often.
Sundance
WEDNESDAY NIGHT, I walked into the war room to find Moses, Wrath, and Rocky playing cards with Snowcone, as planned. Judging by the number of empties in front of Snowcone, Moses had done his job in getting him nice and relaxed.
After having spent two nights in Wyatt’s bed, the last place I wanted to be was here, doing what I was about to do, but the play was in motion and the timing couldn’t be helped. “Heard you were in here,” I said with a casual smile, approaching Snowcone.
“You been lookin’ for me, Boss?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, I need you to take a look at my Caddy.”
I’d been restoring a 1957 Cadillac Fleetwood for the last two years, working on it when the mood hit, so my story wasn’t entirely a lie.
“Oh, yeah? What’s up?”
“The valve cover won’t seal right, and Ratchet can’t figure out why. He said you had experience with Cadillacs, so I figured I’d ask.”
“My stepdad was a Caddy guy,” Snowcone said. “He was a fucking asshole that would steal from me and my sister to buy meth, but at least he taught me a shit ton about cars.”
At that moment I almost felt bad for Snowcone. Almost.
“It’s probably the valve cover gasket. Most of the new aftermarket ones don’t fit for shit,” Snowcone said, laying his cards down on the table before standing up. “Let’s go take a look.”
“Thanks. I’ve got ’er out in the shed,” I said.
Our secondary auto bay, which we called “the shed” was smaller than the main shop and reserved for some of our dirtier work. In the center of the shed’s floor was a large commercial drain used to capture oil and other automotive fluids. I figured it would come in handy tonight.
“Unless, I’m interrupting a high stakes game,” I said, motioning to the table.
“Nah, we were just playing for shits n’ giggles,” Moses replied with a smile. “We’ll come with you. Maybe we can all learn something about automotive repair.”
“The day any of you jackasses learn anything useful is the day I let my bulldog, Bruce, wear the president’s patch,” I said.
“Bruce has been dead for three years, Sundance,” Moses pointed out.
“Exactly,” I said, and motioned Snowcone to the door.
I walked the kid into the shed with my arm around him and felt him stiffen as soon as he saw the place was filled with Howlers. I kept a firm arm on him, just in case he got the dumb idea to try and bolt.
